Dreaming of Blue Skies
by FlitterFlutterFly
Summary: John Sheppard was a rarity, a soldier modified not for speed and strength, but for a very specific skill set. The ability to enter dreams. John thinks very little of his newest mark, the billionaire inventor Rodney McKay, at least until he enters McKay's dreams for the first time and discovers a world that he'd believed only existed in fairytales. McShep. Dystopic AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** John Sheppard was a rarity, a soldier modified not for speed and strength, but for a very specific skill set. The ability to enter dreams. But John wasn't the obedient soldier the Nacon Armed Forces was hoping for and when he runs, he uses all of his experience to escape their searching eyes. Once settled into his life as a thief, John thinks very little of his newest mark, the billionaire inventor Rodney McKay, at least until he enters McKay's dreams for the first time and discovers a world that he'd believed only existed in fairytales.  
**Pairing:** Sheppard/McKay  
**Warnings:** Dystopia AU  
**Notes:** I wrote this for the McShep Match in 2012 for the prompt "honor among thieves".

* * *

_Judge of your natural character by what you do in your dreams._ – Ralph Waldo Emerson

* * *

"John."

John turned and smiled as his friend and fellow thief waved at him. He approached her and nodded a greeting. "Teyla."

Teyla smiled back, though more contained. "They wish to speak with you," she said softly.

John's smile dropped. "I'll go now."

"Luck be with you," Teyla intoned as John left, walking down the silver hallways of the underground Thieves' Guild.

There were no windows in the large complex that John had called home for nearly a year. The Thieves' Guild spanned a remarkably large portion of the underground of Cheyenne City, but nowhere did the building peek at the surface world.

He didn't mind too much. One couldn't live in the world he did and miss sunlight. Everyone in the North American Confederate, and largely on the planet as well, took supplementary vitamins, even the youngest of children, to make up for the Vitamin D that smog and pollution kept from them.

John took a sharp right into an empty transporter and hit the button for the very center of the complex. The transporter made no noise except the sound of the door closing and opening again. John stepped out, nodded to the few friendly faces he saw, but made no move to stop and chat.

One did not make many friends in a life as a thief, but that had not stopped John from becoming close with the few that had saved his life, all those months ago. Teyla and Ronon were the closest thing to family John could have since he'd lost his brothers-in-arms.

The large door to the central meeting room was closed. John placed his hand on the console to the left of it, waiting for it to take a miniscule drop of his blood and read his DNA. After a moment, the device pinged, and the door opened. He stepped inside, letting his eyes adjust to the slightly darker room as the door closed behind him.

There were no chairs or tables in the room, just a central pad that he stepped on, which then powered up the screen that spanned across the entire far wall.

"John Sheppard," a voice spoke. There was no face on the screen and the voice was computerized. John would never know the identity of the ones who assigned his marks, but then none of the thieves would. It was safer that way, for everyone.

"Present," John said, letting a slightly smirk fall over his face. At the beginning, Teyla had warned him to always be respectful to their anonymous supervisors, but John had finished with that sort of discipline when he'd left the Force.

Though he'd only been with the thieves for eleven months, the commander knew by now not to expect the usual subservience from him.

If not for his unique skill set, his attitude might not be tolerated. But John knew just how valuable he was, and so did the shadowed figures that demanded information only he could steal.

"You have a new mark," the voice said, stating the obvious. A picture flashed on the screen and John studied it carefully. "Rodney McKay, PhD, PhD."

Dr. McKay was on the younger end of being middle-aged, probably only a bit older than John's thirty-five, with a crooked scowl and brilliantly blue eyes. He wore a grey suit in the photograph that highlighted the broadness of his shoulders, but it was the way his hands were frozen in mid-motion that had John transfixed. He looked passionate, a bit angry, and definitely intriguing.

John had been given more attractive marks. Hell, a random person on the street was sexier than Dr. McKay. It was plain to see the man had never invested in cosmetic alterations, if not just for the way he was obviously balding.

"Dr. McKay has been a civilian contractor for several major corporations," the voice was continuing. The picture moved to the left and in its place was a list of companies McKay had apparently worked for in the past. "By all accounts, he is arrogant and difficult to work with, but brilliant enough that he remains in high demand."

The screen flashed again to show a large building that John recognized as one of the nicer apartment complexes in the city. "He lives in the penthouse of the Pegasus Complex and owns a cat, though records on his pet are scare."

John frowned. That was strange. Pets were the luxury of the rich and as such all were tagged at birth and records of their pedigree were extensive. Perhaps McKay's cat was a black market trade.

"The information you are to secure is on Dr. McKay's newest project. It appears to be his own research and is not run though a third-party company or corporation. He has sent out feelers to several smaller businesses for support, but said businesses have little record of the transactions."

John settled back on his heels, but no new pictures flashed on the screen. "What is the project?" he asked.

"Unknown," the voice said. "Information already gathered suggests he is developing a device involving agriculture, but any more specific information has been difficult to find."

"Which is why you want me," John said. "I'll take it."

Not that he had a choice in the matter and he knew it. Still, it sounded interesting enough. Though John at first had balked at the idea of stealing an individual's hard-earned invention to give to the highest bidder, he'd soon grown indifferent to that nature of a thief's trade. He'd had to, to survive.

"Touch your hand to the console. The remaining information will be transferred directly to you," the voice instructed.

John waited for the console to light up in front of him before putting his hand over it. There was a small feeling similar to a zap, and then information was flowing into John's brain, too quickly for him to process.

This wasn't a new experience for him. The Force had a used a similar method of mission briefing, and so John waited until all the information had been transferred before he started sorting through it.

"Dr. McKay is scheduled to leave Cheyenne next month. You have until then to procure the plans for his newest invention," the voice stated. "Dismissed."

John gave a mock salute, because he could, and left the room. As he walked along the hallway back to his own bedroom, he let his brain work. The information he'd received began to trickle slowly to his conscious memory.

McKay was rich, very rich. It wasn't inheritance money either.

John suddenly remembered where he heard McKay's name before. The man had been one of the lead engineers in the manufacturing of the new and improved ZPM. ZPMs powered the world; it was no wonder McKay had money.

Regardless of his wealth, it seemed as though the only luxury items McKay owned were his penthouse and his cat. McKay did not appear to dine in the restaurants of the wealthy, and it seemed as though the only time McKay left his penthouse was to go to business meetings or occasionally to work in a lab.

He was a reclusive man, Rodney McKay, which actually made John's job easier. A man who slept in one place, and slept alone, was a man whose dreams John could easily infiltrate.

And that was just what he planned to do.

...

It was night, and the city streets were deserted. Glowing lamps hung from the upper beams of the enclosed glass tunnel provided the only light. John paid little mind to the world outside the glass, where smog obscured everything beyond a couple of yards above the ground. He never even glanced up at the sky, knowing that the tiny balls of glowing light told of in stories, the stars like the sun but millions of light years away, wouldn't be visible.

On some days, he didn't even believe they existed.

His mark's building was close to one of the eastern exits from the Thieves' Guild, and John walked quickly, staying in the shadows. John was wearing dark clothes, and he carried nothing with him, not even the required-by-law ID. An ID was dangerous for him; better to be an unknown than John Sheppard.

John wasn't expecting much of this night, but he was interested in what the billionaire genius would dream of. He had to get a sense of how McKay usually dreamed before he could manipulate McKay's dreams to find and discover the secrets within them.

Everyone dreamed differently.

The Pegasus Living-Complex was nearly deserted so late at night, with just a single security officer at the desk. John slipped past the man easily, the officer half asleep at his desk, and walked quickly and quietly to one of the transporters would take him to McKay's penthouse.

The transporter doors closed, but before they could open again, John hit the emergency stop, the one that kept the small space contained. It was designed to be used only in case of an atmospheric break, if one of the tall glass ceilings shattered and began to let in the poisonous air of the outside world. If that happened, people living in the Complex could retreat to the transporters and wait there until rescue arrived.

Luckily, by the plans the Thieves' Guild had given him, the Pegasus Complex was not one of the buildings that blared an alarm should the emergency stop be activated. That alarm only blared when the sensors picked up an excess of toxic gas in the air, so when just the stop was hit all the showed was a small red light at the security officer's desk. John hoped the man had fallen asleep and wouldn't notice, but if he did then he'd probably assume the usual drunken elevator make-out.

Tonight, John halted the transporter for a completely different reason. After all, he didn't need to be in the same room as McKay to work his "magic".

John scoffed at his own thoughts. None of his skills were magic, as much as he wished it was something so fantastical.

No, his ability was the result of modification and training, and the Force had never let John forget it.

Sighing, John wiped his thoughts clear of past woes and sat down on the floor of the transporter, leaning comfortably in the corner. He let his mind stretch out, searching for the nearest dreamer.

There.

The sleeping man's thoughts pulled at him like a whirlpool and before John knew it, he was asleep.

...

The wind plucked at his clothes, like the touch of an overeager child. John opened his eyes, breath catching in his throat as the breeze caressed his face and arms. There was grass at his feet, easily felt between the soft soles of his boots and yet almost unrecognizable in unfamiliarity.

He was in a field, what he thought the written-of grassy fields of old must have looked like. The grass was expansive spreading out in every direction, touching the horizon.

The horizon. A clear horizon, visible miles off. John held his breath and slowly looked up to the sky.

There was a lazy cloud drifting in the wind, and beyond that blue. A clear blue sky, like that nursery rhyme his mother used to sing to him.

_Never forget what it feels to lie_  
_On the grass under a clear blue sky_

_Never forget what it feels to swim_  
_In the ocean on a whim_

_Never forget what it feels to cry_  
_For the animals passing by_

Except he had forgotten, or at least, had not been allowed to remember, because there were no more skies like this. Not in the real world.

And just like that, John remembered that he was dreaming another's dream. He reluctantly tore his eyes away from the wonder that stretched just over his head and instead began to walk in the wonder all around him.

"It's so beautiful," he heard whispered around him.

John spun, surprised, to see McKay just a few yards from him. McKay was sitting with his legs spread as he looked around. When he turned to look at John, his eyes were as blue as the sky above them.

"Will it be this beautiful?" McKay asked.

"I don't know," John answered honestly, because he had no idea what McKay was talking about.

And because, even although he was confused, he was also intrigued by the sight of the man he knew to be brash, rude, always working, always doing, sitting still in the grass like that was all he cared about.

"Yeah," McKay said. He lay back on the grass, the cloud making a shadow on his face.

John opened his mouth, to say what he wasn't sure, but then the grass whipped around him. He turned to look at the horizon to see a sandstorm of smog approaching, coming to consume them.

McKay made a distressed noise and John took a step back, his heart pounding as the landscape was quickly covered is black.

John woke.

The walls of the transporter were uncomfortable against his back and he winced. Standing slowly, John used the still-closed door to support himself as he stood, panting.

"Fuck," John cursed. He'd learned nothing, absolutely nothing, and yet even the thought of slipping back into that dream, or any other that night, was enough to make his stomach roll.

What he'd seen… what he'd seen was the stuff of fairytales. Of children's stories, before the child grew too old and too jaded at the state of the Earth.

John had stopped believing in clear oceans and sandy beaches and grassy planes and forests of trees and above all of clear blue skies on the day his mother had died. On the day his father told him to stop being a child and grow up.

With a shaking hand, John pressed the button for the ground floor and walked as steadily as he could past the now fully asleep security guard, out of the complex, and back towards the guild, to his own bed and his own dreams.

...

The dry bread crunched in John's mouth. He preferred softer loafs, but it was food and he'd learned long ago not to be picky about what was on the dinner table. Sure, there wasn't a food shortage per say , but good food was hard to come by.

After all, the few biodomes used to grown organic food were rare and most products, like the bread John was eating, were created in labs. Though they sustained the human body well enough, the technicians had yet to be able to recreate wheat that led to soft bread.

Teyla ripped off a chuck of sausage and passed the hunk of meat his way. John accepted it, grabbed his own chunk before throwing the rest to Ronon.

Ronon grinned and ate the meat in two bites, like he always did. Teyla shook her head at him, but didn't comment.

"You finished with your mark?" John asked them curiously. Ronon and Teyla were often sent out on heists together. They worked well as a team, more than just well if John was being honest, and sometimes he envied them.

His type of theft had to be solo work. It was dangerously easy for John to slip into the wrong dream if he was near many others.

"We have completed our task," Teyla said. "They said that perhaps we would be given a small break before our next."

"That's good," John nodded. "You happy about that, big guy?"

"Yeah," Ronon shrugged, swallowing down the last of his beer. There was more that he wasn't saying, but John heard it anyway.

When there weren't other options, sometimes having a mark was the only thing that kept any of them from going insane.

"And yourself, John?" Teyla asked. "Have your nights been fruitful?"

John flashed back to the dream he'd shared with McKay and shrugged. He didn't tend to share specifics about his marks, and nor did Ronon and Teyla. It was too dangerous.

But for the first time since he'd come to the Thieves' Guild, John kind of wanted to. He wanted to tell them of the blue skies and the grass and how real it had all seemed, in the way dreams do. Except, while many forgot their dreams upon waking, John never did. Neither his own or his marks'.

It was both a blessing and a curse.

"Same old, same old," John said instead. It was dangerous, and regardless, he couldn't put together the words to describe the wonder of what he'd seen.

Teyla hummed and Ronon grunted and John relaxed in the company of the friends he hadn't thought he would make.

Somewhere, on the other side of the city, John guessed that McKay was eating lunch alone, but he brushed the thought aside before he could let it bother him.


	2. Chapter 2

_All the things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams._ – Elias Canetti

* * *

John paused at the fork in the tunnel. He knew turning right was the fastest way back to the Thieves' Guild and to his bed.

But he wasn't yet tired. And though Teyla and Ronon might be expecting him for an evening spar, it was more likely they were in their room doing private… things. John preferred not to think about it, if only because they were his friends and would know by the flush of his face that he had.

John took the left fork instead, which looped in on itself before straightening out to a long, wide walkway. All cities and towns were like this, glass domes connected by tunnels. Some cities, like Cheyenne, had underground buildings as well, though more often than not those underground complexes were home to the seedier section: such as the Thieves' Guild.

The hall arched and John stepped through. All of the sudden, he found himself standing at the entrance to a park, the large glass biosphere above him. John sometimes wondered at the choice of glass. More often than not, all that could be seen of the outside world was the dark smog that covered the planet. Sure, the smog tended to hover like a low hanging cloud, leaving a small amount of ground visible, but of the ground that could be seen it was only a deserted wasteland of dust and mud.

Though the smog wasn't impenetrable. Just enough light shined through to give people a sense of the time of day and, in the few lucky hours when the sun was at the horizon, the world seemed darkly beautiful.

There was a single tree in the center of the park, a rarity, low hanging so that children could climb it. Several areas of carefully groomed patches of grass were separated by benches. It probably cost a large portion of the city taxes to keep just that much plant-life alive and John could see the fake sunlight lamps hanging just above the tree's tallest leaves, though they were off now.

It was past dark and the park was empty, but John knew it was a popular place in the city. All of the parks were, the constructors had deigned to allocate very few into the layout of the biospheres.

Usually, John would have been impressed by the tree. To survive just on the minimal amount of sunlight that pierced through the smog and those few light lamps, it would have been genetically modified, as would the grass, but trees were harder to manipulate.

Tonight, the tree reminded John of the dream he'd recently entered, of the forest he'd been walking through, following McKay like some sort of fairytale wolf. It had been the second dream of McKay's he'd entered and the part of John that had wondered if the first had been a fluke had been squashed by the imagination of the man's unconscious mind. How amazing would it be to see a grove of trees, not just one, but trees of different sizes and shapes and species.

It was a fanciful wish, and so John turned away, walking quickly through the park to the passageway on other side.

He didn't look back.

...

The world was muted greys and flashes of black. John stood on top of a tower; looking down, he couldn't see the ground.

He stepped off.

There was a rush of what could have been air, but then a stinging in his ear like he'd been bitten and he reached to feel where the bullet had punctured his skin. John blinked and looked around.

A familiar face stood to his left. Evan turned to him, eyes wide. He was mouthing something, but John couldn't hear what he was trying to say.

Evan shook his head and waved him away. John shrugged and kept walking.

Then he started running.

Footsteps echoed behind him, but he couldn't hear them. He couldn't hear anything, he just knew by the shadows that loomed up on the grey walls. Soldiers were following him.

John ran faster.

All of the sudden, there was someone else running beside him. He tried to see who it was, but he couldn't turn his head.

The hallway ended abruptly. Hands grabbed at him, pulling, tearing, ripping.

The world dissolved and then reformed. Holland sat in a chair, staring at him. His eyes were terrified. He was saying something, screaming.

John couldn't hear anything.

Holland convulsed and John stepped back, horrified, only to find that he was falling backwards. Someone else was falling with him, one eye sad and the other mad.

Ford laughed, a grenade held to his chest.

John opened his eyes.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair and found that sweat had plastered it to his head. His body was shaking as if he really had been running, and John took several breaths to calm himself down.

This was why he preferred the solace of another's dreams. Contrasted against his own, the typical civilian's nightmare was a relief compared to his memories. And McKay's dream… John would pay to live in sunlight and roll in grass every night.

John groaned, flopping back on his thin mattress. His mind was spinning like a dancer unable to stop and he just wanted… just wished…

It didn't matter anymore, though, did it?

...

The transporter stopped. John sank down to the floor, his head banging back against the metal wall. He was tired, so very tired of nightmares waking him up.

Closing his eyes, John barely had to reach for the tug of McKay's dreams. It was only his third time entering McKay's dream, and yet it was oh so easy to slip inside–

The sound of water crashing was music to John's ears. He looked around, smiling, as his eyes roamed over the beach.

Perfect white sand rolled in dunes. In the collision of water and land, waves crashed like falling stars. John looked down at himself. Seeing his usual cargo pants and black tee, he concentrated for a moment and felt his clothes shift into a set of swim trucks.

Barefoot, John walked across the beach to the ocean. The water was cool against his skin, stinging slightly like he'd always imagined salt water would. The waves pulled at him and John went, swimming out into the ocean like he would never be able to do outside of a dream.

On the beach, a laugh came from McKay. He was stretched out on a blanket, his chest covered by a white shirt and his legs by khaki shorts. John almost waved, but then he was pulled down by a current and he had to swim to get his head back up above the water.

McKay watched him with sparkling blue eyes. John felt himself flushing and he turned away, diving down. He opened his eyes and nearly inhaled liquid as he caught sight of a fish, a real wild fish, swimming past him.

Should he be able to open his eyes, John wondered. It didn't really matter, he decided as he surfaced again.

The ocean continued as far as he could see. John let the waves push him back to the shore and for a moment he just lay there, on the border between water and land as the waves crashed upon his bare skin.

There was a soft sound of footsteps in the sand, and John looked up to see McKay standing over him.

"Come here often?" his mark asked, teasing and curious.

"If only," John replied honestly, sitting up.

A massive wave approached and crashed down, drenching the both of then. McKay sputtered, shaking himself, and John laughed.

He wondered if he should ask McKay about his project, manipulate the dream so the man would tell him, but then McKay smiled back at him and John decided that he could wait a little longer.

McKay was still smiling, a bit dopily. "You ever surfed?"

"Of course not," John said. "But I've heard about it."

McKay nodded and then behind him a surfboard appeared. John grabbed it and lifted it up. "Wish me luck!" he called.

"Good luck," McKay said, seeming content to watch John try to ride the waves.

John tried, and tried again, and though he crashed more often then not, it was with a smile and laugh and the occasional snarky comment from his companion.

The taste of salt water in his mouth was constant and John licked his lips against it. McKay watched him, his blue eyes tracing the end of John's tongue. "What's your name?" he asked.

John opened his mouth, but before he could think of a lie the sound of the waves receded and he was opening his eyes.

The salty taste was still there in his mouth and John brought a hand up to his cheeks, feeling the tracks of tears. He coughed, uncertain of the emotions fluttering in his chest.

"Dammit," John growled, wiping at his face angrily. "Dammit," he said again, softer, sadder.

...

John's route to McKay's penthouse was becoming more and more mindless. Whether it was because he'd done it so many times already, or if there was another reason, John didn't know, but his relaxed strolling was nearly the death of him on his next trip.

It was only by chance that he spotted the reflection of the soldier in the fogged glass of the tunnel.

John began to walk faster, and now that he was listening he heard the soldier's footsteps matching his. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he considered how he might lose his tail.

The Pegasus Complex loomed ahead and without thinking John walked inside. The security guard glanced at him, curious, and John cursed at the man's attentiveness.

He couldn't sneak up to the transporter now.

"Hi," John said, walking up to the man. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the soldier stop just outside the building. "My friend is supposed to be waiting for me."

"What apartment?" the security guard asked.

Before John could answer, the soldier stepped inside the building. The security guard stood up behind the desk. "I'm sorry," he called. "We don't allow weapons inside this complex."

The soldier raised an eyebrow. He had a brutish face, but not one John immediately recognized. While that could be a good thing, John also didn't know anything about the man's personality or his fighting.

He hated going into a fight blind.

"I won't be here for long," the soldier said in a low voice, his eyes flicking to John.

John felt as though his insides were frozen, but he kept a pleasant expression on his face. "Can I help you with something?"

"Your identification," the soldier demanded.

The security guard shifted, unsure and a bit wary as he looked between the two of them. John winced. "I don't have it on me," he said, looking apologetic. "I was just dropping by to visit a friend…"

"Not being in possession of your personal ID is a violation of Stature 321 of the Code. Under subsection B, I have the right to bring you in for questioning," the soldier stated, a gleam in his eye.

Shit, John thought. He opened his mouth, mind racing for something, anything he could say, but just then someone cleared their throat and suddenly McKay was stepping out from the lobby near the transporters.

By the set of his shoulders, he'd heard the entire conversation, but he wasn't looking at the solider. He was looking at John. "Dr. Mackers!" he called. "You're late."

John rolled with it, because what else could he do, and adopted a sheepish look. "Dr. McKay," he said. "I'm sorry. I was rushed and I left my ID at home and now…" he glanced meaningfully at the soldier.

McKay turned sharp blue eyes to the soldier. "Like you've never left your ID at home before?" he scoffed. "Dr. Mackers is here for a very important discussion on the latest prototype for Stargate Industries."

"Well, it's just," the soldier pulled at his neck collar. John couldn't blame him, McKay looked fierce in a way that wasn't quite what most of the Force were trained to deal with.

And besides, the billionaire's reputation was probably wide-spread. John would be surprised if the soldier didn't know who he was facing.

"Speak up!" McKay snapped. "No one likes mumbling. It's just what?"

"The Code, Dr. McKay," the soldier said. "I should take in… he could be suspicious."

"Suspicious?" McKay chortled. "Dr. Mackers is a recluse. My cat is more suspicious."

"I… you," the soldier flicked his eyes from McKay to John to the security guard who was now looking highly amused.

"Do you want to get in the way of science?" McKay threatened finally.

That was it. The soldier shook his head quickly. "Of course not. I'll just… I'll go make sure no one on the street is… doing anything." The man left quickly, throwing a backward glance as if to make sure McKay wasn't following him.

McKay rolled his eyes. "Imbecile," he muttered. That scowl suddenly turned to John. "Well come on," he said. "Let's go."

John followed, nervous again as he and McKay walked into the transporter together. He had no doubt that he could take the scientist if he needed to, but he didn't want to hurt the man.

He also didn't want to be turned in to the Nacon Armed Force, specifically the Internal Defense Division that had replaced the city police nearly half a century ago. After all, if the Defense Division had him and began asking questions, pretty soon the Special Force Division would come in and then John would be in a load of shit.

John wondered if McKay truly recognized him. There didn't seem to be a reason to rescue him if he hadn't… but most people didn't remember their dreams as anything more than a vague memory.

The transporter stopped at the top floor and McKay stepped out. John stood in the doorway for a moment. He'd never actually been inside McKay's penthouse, and it was pretty damn impressive.

The walls were floor to ceiling windows. Currently the blinds were partly down, blocking the view of the smog outside. But John could imagine how they would capture the light on those few, rare days when the wind blew the smog just enough to allow a hint of sunlight to shine through.

The walls were carpet, soft-looking and clean. John walked behind McKay into what he guessed was the den. There was a couch and an old-fashioned television, the kind with a flat screen that filled up half a wall.

"A classic," John said, gesturing to it.

"Yeah, damn thing hardly works anymore, but," McKay shrugged. "Coffee?"

John nodded and followed McKay into the kitchen area where the newest of appliances shined. The only thing that looked used was the coffee maker and McKay quickly set about make a pot.

"Order in a lot?" John asked, eyes tracing over the remains of a takeout box.

McKay seemed to flush and he grabbed the box and threw it in the disposal, the chute that would incinerate anything that went down it and then chuck the ashes out into the smog-filled outside world. "I hardly have time to cook," he said.

John sat at the table and thanked his mark as McKay poured him a cup of coffee. And how weird was that, drinking coffee with the man he had to steal from.

It almost had John grimacing, but he caught himself before the expression could make it to his face. He wasn't out of trouble yet.

"I dreamed of you," McKay said, sitting down with his own mug of coffee. "Several times." He paused. "But I don't think I've ever seen you before."

John suppressed a wince. "Maybe we once passed each other on the street," he suggested.

But McKay was too sharp for that. His piercing blue eyes bore into John for a moment, studying. "No," he stated. "That's not it, is it?"

John cleared his throat. "Look, Dr. McKay, thank you for helping me back there, but I don't think…"

"You don't think you have a good excuse for whatever it is that you're doing here?" McKay said. His looked suddenly furious and John leaned back in his chair, his fight and flight responses warring briefly.

Then, before either of them could say anything, there was a meow and the creature that could only be McKay's cat entered the room.

Except, if that was a cat then John was an alien, because the thing looked nothing like any pet John had ever seen before. Its face was scarred and mangled with a misshaped nose. It hopped along on three legs and where most cats had smooth fur this one had skin with patches of what might have been orange tabby coloring, maybe, had it not been bleached and then rubbed through mud.

"What?" John started to ask, but then the thing jumped up onto his lap and began to purr.

McKay stared. "Tauri doesn't like anyone," he stated.

"Uh," John slowly, hesitantly, began to pet the… cat's back. "Tauri?"

McKay nodded, frowning. Then he blinked as if he was remembering something and looked over at where the time showed on the fridge. "Shit, I have a conference call."

He stood without another glance to John or Tauri, rushing towards a back room of the house with coffee still in hand.

John exchanged a look with the cat and then, gently, picked the thing up and set it down on the floor. Tauri immediately yowled at him and John put a finger to his lips. "Shh," he said, draining the last of his coffee.

With one last, lingering glance at the direction McKay had disappeared, John quickly made his way to the transporter.

He felt the cat's gaze on his back until the door closed.

"Bye Dr. Mackers!" the security guard called out as John left and he waved quickly back at the man.

John was in trouble, but he wasn't yet sure what kind.


	3. Chapter 3

_A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world._ – Oscar Wilde

* * *

John didn't know why, but he found himself thinking about his mark for reasons wholly unrelated to the information he was meant to uncover. He was still far from even an idea about the device the McKay was supposedly inventing, and so John told himself that any little piece of information could be important.

Even if that information was how Rodney's eyes might sparkle on those rare occasions that sunlight broke through the smog.

And it had become Rodney, not McKay, ever since the man had saved him from discovery. John knew it was a bad idea to get personal with his mark, but he found that he couldn't help it. He was drawn to Rodney like a fly caught in a web.

A web made of the most beautiful dreams he'd ever seen. Dreams that left him longing hours after he'd woken up.

Whatever web he'd been trapped in or spell he'd been put under, it had led him here, in front of Rodney's penthouse holding a container in front of him like an offering.

"Is that," Rodney gaped. "Blue jello?"

John nodded and easily relinquished the container as Rodney made a grab for it. "I wanted to thank you," he said almost awkwardly. "For the other day."

Rodney seemed to accept that and quickly waved him inside. "This is my favorite," he said happily.

John knew that, it had been in the file he'd downloaded to his brain, but he shrugged easily. "Lucky guess."

Rodney looked momentarily suspicious, but he herded John to the table anyway. "This is too much for me," he explained when John gave him a confused look. He set down a bowl and spoon in front of John and quickly opened the container.

"Huh," John said. "You're smarter than I thought."

"Of course I'm smart," Rodney paused, then continued to scoop jello into John's bowl. "I'm a genius."

"So I've heard," John said. He shouldn't have said what he was thinking, but it was too late to back out now. "It's just smart of you not to accept food from strangers. Or, I mean, to force them to eat first."

Rodney turned sharp blue eyes on him. "So?"

John smirked and spooned out some of the gelatin before swallowing it. "Fresh out of the cooling tub."

"It's just common sense," Rodney said, likely in response to John's earlier comment. "Should I be worried about you poisoning me?"

"No," John said honestly. "I wouldn't."

Rodney continued to study him for a moment, and then seemed to decide that he was telling the truth. He took a large spoonful of jello, practically moaning around it. "This is the stuff."

"Glad you like it," John smiled.

Rodney jabbed his spoon in John's direction, but didn't say anything. Soon enough, the entire container of jello had been consumed between them and John sat back in his chair, patting his stomach.

"Wow," he groaned. "I think that actually made me hungrier."

"It's the jello curse," Rodney shrugged. He hesitated for a moment. "You want some dinner?"

John froze. He shouldn't, he really shouldn't, but then he had come inside with Rodney, had already broken so many rules of interacting with marks, and Rodney's eyes were so blue as they looked at him. "Sure."

Rodney nodded and headed over to the cooling unit where he pulled out two full plates of food. "Steak and potatoes okay?"

"More than okay," John said, already salivating.

Rodney placed the plates inside the refresher. He tapped his fingers on the counter until the machine beeped in finish and then took the plates out, setting one down in front of John. Soon after came a fork and knife.

"Hardly have time to cook," John said, copying Rodney's tone from the night the man saved him.

Rodney rolled his eyes, cutting at his steak viciously.

John wondered what the man's game plan was. If John were to guess, and it was a good guess, Rodney wanted to figure out how John was getting into his dreams.

Well, he'd keep guessing. No matter how much of a genius Rodney was, the program that modified John and gave him his skills was too classified for most of the Force to know of, let along outside civilians. And besides, John's skill was a rarity even within that program.

In fact, he might be the only one left alive who could enter dreams.

"So what do you do for a living?" Rodney asked suddenly.

John took a large bite of steak, chewed, and swallowed before he said. "I'm a mathematician."

Rodney gave what must have been his best incredulous look, but John just smiled. "Right," he coughed. "And your opinion on the solution of the last millennium problem."

John blinked. "Last I checked, the P versus NP problem has yet to be solved." He paused. "But that might not the last. After all, there's still controversy over the solution to the Riemann hypothesis that Mark Villard proved last year."

"Villard is an idiot," Rodney said. "He missed the key point of the problem."

"Agreed," John snorted. "He only fully proved the existence of the real one-half for a few of the non-trivial zeros. It's not better than Turán's result."

Rodney stared for a moment, obviously surprised. "Turán's at least showed the nonexistence of zeros with real part greater than one plus N to the negative half plus E for the large N in the Dirichlet series."

"Yes, but Montgomery showed that for all sufficiently large N these series have zeros with a greater real part than what is needed to prove the Rienmann hypothesis." He sighed. "Now you're just testing me."

"Mathematician, huh?" Rodney hummed, not denying that he was. "What field?"

"Mostly representation theory," John admitted, because that was his hobby in his spare time.

"Algebra," Rodney scoffed.

"Projective representation of Lie groups," John corrected.

Rodney set his knife down and leaned forward. "So your opinion on Darkr's new exponential map?"

It was hours later, when John caught himself yawning, that he realized the time. "Shit," he muttered. It was way past any form of a reasonable hour to have to walk back to the Guild complex.

"You said it," Rodney agreed mournfully. "I have a seven o'clock conference call."

"Why would you ever schedule a conference call that early?" John raised an eyebrow. "That's moronic."

"Don't I know it," Rodney put his head in his hands briefly, and then looked up. His eyes held the spark of an idea, a hypothesis. "You can crash on my couch if you want."

"I…" John hesitated, and then sighed. He really didn't want to have to walk back after all, and he might as well get some real work done. "Thanks."

Rodney set him up on the very comfortable living room couch with a pillow and blanket. John shucked off his boots easily and lay back, eyelids already heavy.

...

"It was a stupid idea!" Rodney's voice screamed.

John stumbled forward, curious. Peering around the corner, he saw Rodney's profile. He looked like he was arguing with someone, hands flying.

"Stupid?" the unknown person said. "You made millions, McKay."

"I don't care about money," Rodney hissed. "They think everything is fixed now, all their problems are solved. Well they're not! While we sit here on our asses just living off the power of the ZedPM, the world is dying."

"It's your ZPM design," the person laughed. "I just built it. We all know where it really came from."

"That's…" Rodney stepped backwards and then stopped suddenly. "But I will fix it! I'm going to fix it. You don't… you don't know what I have coming, Sam. But I promise."

John felt his throat closed. There was something sad in Rodney's tone and he didn't like it.

"I promise I'll fix it Sam," Rodney stated. "I'll fix this whole mess."

The unknown person, (Sam?), didn't answer. Rodney turned away, but in doing so his eyes landed on John and John froze.

"What are you doing here?" Rodney asked, accusing.

"I-" John licked his lips. "I heard shouting."

I was pulled in, he thought silently.

Pulled?

"Out!" Rodney stated, his eyes flashing. "I don't know who you are. I don't… get out! Get out of my head."

John closed his eyes, not wanting to see the anger on Rodney's face. "I didn't mean-"

"OUT!"

John sat up, his chest heaving. He blinked heavily, the world still dark, but soon his eyes adjusted and he realized where he was.

Rodney's couch.

He hadn't meant… Rodney had noticed him. But what's more, John hadn't realized he had slipped into Rodney's dream.

He hadn't realized he was dreaming.

"Fuck," John cursed, clutching his pounding head. "Dammit."

He couldn't stay, couldn't risk that happening again. If Rodney remembered… he'd know.

John stood, tripping over the discarded blanket. He was halfway to the door when a light came on. Guiltily, he turned to look at Rodney.

"What's your name?" Rodney asked softly. He had bags under his eyes and his skin was pale.

"John Sheppard," John said. He winced. "My name is John," he repeated. He wasn't… to say his true last name was a mistake above any he'd yet made.

What was it about Rodney that had his barriers dropping?

Rodney nodded slowly. "You're leaving?"

"I'm not good for sleeping on couches," John said weakly. "Thank you, though, for offering and for dinner."

For not turning me in, he added silently.

Rodney said nothing for so long that John had already begun to turn towards the door. Finally though, in a soft voice he said, "Goodnight John."

"Goodnight Rodney." John opened the door and stepped out towards the transporters. "Sweet dreams."

He closed the door before Rodney could reply.

...

The figurine was smooth under his fingers. John stroked it and then checked the price tag.

He winced. It was expensive, probably more than it was worth all things considered, but to find a natural stone figurine was far too rare in the city and Teyla would love it.

"You buying?" the store keeper asked, suspicious as he glanced over John's dark clothes.

John hesitated for a moment, and then thought of Teyla's face as she opened her birthday gift. "Yeah," he said.

The man quickly wrapped the gift up, adding a note when John asked. John handed over his card, knowing he'd have to skimp a little on food for a few days. He could manage. He'd survived on worse, for worse causes.

Present secured under his arm, John left the store, only to run headlong into someone else.

"Sorry," he said automatically, hand shooting out to steady the man.

Rodney turned to look at him, blue eyes incredulous. For a moment, John thought he was about to be berated, and then it seemed Rodney recognized him and he just rolled his eyes. "Sheppard."

"John, please," John said, quickly glancing around if anyone had heard. His last name wasn't the most uncommon, but if anyone from the Force were to pass by and hear it…

Well, it had John wondering again why he'd told Rodney his full, and true, name.

"John," Rodney said after a moment. His eyes flicked to the package and he raised an eyebrow in question.

"Birthday present for a friend," John explained quickly. "What are you doing on this side of town?"

"Lab work," Rodney waved a hand in the air and sighed. "I was just heading to lunch." He paused. "You want to join?"

John's face cracked into a grin before he could help it. "I would love to."

Rodney led him to a nearby sub shop, where they ordered at a console and were given a table. They sat at it, relatively secluded from the other lunch-goers. John leaned back in his seat.

"What is it?" Rodney asked.

"What?" John blinked. "What's what?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "The gift," he nodded to the package, which John had set down on the table.

"Oh." John scratched his neck. "A miniature statue of the ancient saint: Mother Teresa."

"Wait, the Christian nun?" Rodney said. "That's an old religion."

"Yeah, well," John shrugged. "My friend, Teyla, she really admires Saint Teresa. So when I saw that…"

Rodney nodded, though he still seemed a bit perplexed. "I've heard naturalists revere her, Teresa. Well, she's not the only one of course. Regardless-"

"Teyla's not a naturalist," John stated. "She's been modified." Slightly enhanced beauty, really just the darkening of her skin into a more bronze, and her hair color into a gold. And extra strength and speed, but Rodney didn't need to know that. Those modifications were paid for by the Thieves' Guild, after all.

"Huh." There was a ping and then their food orders appeared on the table. John grabbed for his sandwich and bit into it. The meat was tender and juicy, though the lettuce was a bit dry. A bad lab growth, maybe.

"Are you a naturalist, then?" John asked, curious once he'd consumed nearly half of his food.

Rodney scoffed through a mouth full of sandwich. He swallowed before saying, "Those hippies? No, I've been modified, too."

"You have?" John blinked. "That is… I mean, you don't look…"

Rodney waved a hand. "Not cosmetically." His tone showed just how much he thought of that. "I used to have horrible allergies. I was allergic to citrus, you know, lemons. Lemons, it was awful! And I was hypoglycemic."

John winced. "That must have sucked."

Rodney shrugged. "My parents were naturalists, actually, but I left home at fourteen and once I'd gotten my first job those modifications were the first things I paid for." His eyes showed a phantom of memory at that and John wondered briefly what it felt like to have an allergic reaction. They were just so… rare.

"Obviously you have no trouble now," John stated, nodding to Rodney's lemonade. Rodney smirked.

"And you, obviously," he flapped his hands. "What did you look like before?"

He didn't seem judgmental, just curious, still John flushed slightly. "Like this," he admitted. "The only thing they changed was to remove my chest hair. I was pretty furry by the time I hit my twenties. The Force wasn't a fan." He cut himself off abruptly.

It had been a very long time since he'd accidentally slipped up and revealed that he was once part of the Nacon Armed Forces, the sole army of the North American Confederation… but Rodney had already moved on with a nod as if he'd already guessed that.

"Though I find it hard to believe that anyone can be born looking like you do," Rodney said. His face flushed suddenly as if he'd realized what he'd just said. "I mean, not that I… you are very attractive, but that doesn't mean, I mean, it's just-"

"Rodney," John said with a laugh. "Thanks. You're not too bad yourself."

Rodney scoffed. "You don't have to lie." But he looked pleased, so John counted it as a win.

After that, the conversation slid back into the last time they'd talked. Math and science and the lasted proofs in both. The implications of the new wind-based energy beam. John found himself enjoying the way it fired up both of them, those heated debates.

Soon enough though, they had to say their goodbyes. Rodney had a meeting to get to and John had to go confer with Ronon about Teyla's party. Still, it was with good cheer that they shook hands and John found himself smiling all the way back to the Thieves' Guild.

...

"Good," Ronon grunted. He was wrapping his own present for Teyla, a new set of knives. "She'll like it."

"I thought so," John said. He sat down on Ronon's bed, trying to ignore the smell of sex in the room. It would only have him wanting something he couldn't have.

Ronon finished wrapping the last knife and then set the bundle aside. He fixed his gaze on John, just watching, and John began to frown.

"You've been strange lately," Ronon said finally.

John met his gaze squarely. "How so?"

"Just… strange," Ronon shook his head. He'd never been one for words and John respected that. His actions often spoke for themselves. "This mark."

John traced the way Ronon was fiddling with one of his own weapons, a short sword. Though the large man preferred his phaser gun to any other weapon, he was also quite proficient with the blade. And John knew just what he was asking with the way his hands flipped the sword over.

"No," John said. "It's… nothing I can't handle."

Ronon raised an eyebrow, but he resheathed his blade. "If you're sure."

"I am," John said strongly.

Ronon nodded and stood. "Wanna spar?"

John accepted quickly, standing up to follow his friend out of the room. It was only once Ronon's back was turned that he allowed himself to run a hand through his hair and softly sigh.


	4. Chapter 4

_So many of our dreams at first seem impossible, then they seem improbable, and then, when we summon the will, they soon become inevitable._ – Christopher Reeve

* * *

Teyla's laugh spread throughout the room as Ronon picked her up off her feet and swung her around. A couple of other thieves hid their smiles in their cups.

John chuckled along with Teyla, pleased to see his friend looking so happy on her birthday.

Ronon set Teyla down, an almost feral grin on his face, and went to grab some food. John leaned back against the wall, watching as Teyla began to make rounds to all of her friends.

Soon, though, she was approaching him and he straightened. "Happy birthday, Teyla," he said even though he'd already mentioned it several times that day.

"Thank you John," Teyla smiled. "And for your gift as well. It was most thoughtful."

"I'm glad you liked it," John said honestly. His gaze dropped to the floor briefly. "You're a good friend and I don't… I don't have many of those left."

"John," Teyla murmured. She leaned forward to rest their foreheads together in her version of a hug. "You mean a lot to me, and to Ronon. More than you may know."

John cleared his throat, checking quickly to make sure no one was close enough to overhear them speaking. "I haven't been keeping my distance, Teyla," he confessed. "Rodn- my mark is too much, too perfect." Too beautiful, he added silently. Too enrapturing.

"Perfect?" Teyla's lips twitched. "Ronon and I realized that you are not maintaining a distance as we'd told you to, back in the beginning."

"I know," John hung his head. "It's just-"

"John," Teyla cut him off before he could start to make excuses. "You have been in this Guild for nearly a year. You are unique and you have a gift. You are valuable to them, but there are always other ways."

"What do you mean?" John asked, stunned.

"Why did you leave the Force, John?" Teyla asked in return.

John hesitated, and then answered. "Because they asked to… they made me do something, hurt someone I didn't want to hurt. And because I knew they'd make me do it again."

Teyla's smile was wide and proud. "Is this not the same?"

John's eyes widened and he fell back against the wall in surprise as she kissed him softly on the cheek and turned to go rejoin the rest of her party.

...

John let himself into Rodney's flat. The man's front door passcode had been in the file he'd been given, but he hadn't had a reason to use it before now.

Now, though, now he had to talk to Rodney.

The kitchen and living room were empty. John frowned, cocking his head to the side as he heard voices coming from a back room. Curious, he walked quietly down the hallway, passing what looked like Rodney's bedroom on his right and a bathroom to his left.

The door at the end of the hall was open and John could make out Rodney's back. In front of him, a large video screen showed a man John very vaguely recognized, but he couldn't place from where.

"-the combustion of it," Rodney was saying. "If we can find a way to calm down the filtration system then it should work fine."

"Fine is not good enough here, Rodney, you know that," the man said, adjusting his glasses. "We need to design a better cooling unit. With the corrosion the outer shell is going to undergo, we need to at least be confident that it will not burst into flame."

"If it did, it'd be apt," Rodney's hands stilled. John wondered if he was rolling his eyes. "I have to wonder if one machine will be enough, Radek."

Now John recognized him as Dr. Radek Zelenka, one of the other contributors to the ZPM model and one of the few people Rodney willingly worked with. Zelenka snorted. "It will not," he said. "The Phoenix Device will be powerful, yes, but to cover the whole planet…"

The scientist trailed off, looking past Rodney's shoulder. At him, John realized. Caught, he gave a little wave.

Rodney turned, frowning. "What are you doing here?" he asked abruptly.

"I can't come visit?" John put on a fake-hurt look.

Rodney opened his mouth as if to argue, but Zelenka spoke first. "I will return to the lab and try those tests, Rodney," he said. "Call me back when you have finished with your… visit."

John raised an eyebrow Zelenka, but the scientist just signed off and the screen went black.

Rodney stood and walked towards John. John backed up slightly, letting the man out of the door. Rodney headed towards the living room and John followed.

"What's the Phoenix Device?" John asked as they stopped by the couch.

Rodney spun to face him, something infinitely sad in his eyes. It had John's chest contracting painfully and he swallowed.

After a moment, Rodney leaned over to pet Tauri, who was napping on the couch. "I didn't buy Tauri in an adoption agency," he began. "I don't even know if he was born in one, but maybe. It's likely."

"What?" John asked, confused.

"I was doing some work for Weir's company," Rodney said. "Six months ago now. We were outside the biosphere, in hazmat suits of course, and there was a break in the smog." He wasn't looking at John at all, continuing to pet Tauri who'd now woken up and was purring. "I saw him on the side of an old highway. He was coated in grime and sludge, but he was alive."

"You rescued him from outside," John gaped. "But, without a suit, the pollution kills any living thing in mere hours!"

"He'd been out there at least overnight," Rodney said. "I took him to a specialist, a friend of mine actually, and she, Jennifer, began to care for him. I thought he would die, but I was curious so I had a tracker help me find where he'd been. We followed his tracks all the way to a small enclave."

"What did you find?" John asked, because now Rodney was looking at him, but with faraway eyes.

"Fresh water," he whispered. "In the back of a cave. There was a small pool, a spring actually, and around it… algae."

"Fuck," John had to sit down at that. He couldn't… he couldn't even imagine. As often as he'd been in Rodney's dreams of a world of fresh water and green life, he couldn't imagine that such things could still exist in this world.

"Yeah," Rodney rubbed the back of his neck, his other hand still stroking Tauri. "I went back to Jennifer, expecting bad news, but she said Tauri would survive. They had to amputate one of his legs, it was too far gone from some acidic mud he'd fallen into, and he was so thin then from lack of food." He swallowed visibly. "But he survived."

"And you gave him a home," John said.

"And a name," Rodney nodded. "Tauri. It means 'mankind' in an old language… I can't even remember anymore where it came from but I have a book-" he shook his head. "He's my hope for humans, Tauri. My hope that we haven't destroyed the Earth so completely that it can't be recovered."

"So the Phoenix Device," John's throat was tight. "Phoenixes are reborn from their own ashes."

Rodney slowly sat down next to John, his hands coming to rest in his lap. "Exactly. It's… the device is complicated. I have several biologists and botanists working on it with me in secret, and of course I have a degree in bioengineering so that helps, but… it's been six months and we're not there yet."

"That's doesn't-" John cut himself off before he could say it doesn't matter. Because it did. It mattered so much. "I can't believe it, Rodney."

Rodney looked at him with those sky-blue eyes and John couldn't hold himself back anymore. He reached a hand out to clasp the back of Rodney's neck and pulled him closer.

Their lips touched like a burst of sunlight and Rodney let out a surprised gasp against his tongue. John swallowed it, continuing the kiss easily and needier than he'd ever kissed anyone before.

Rodney's hands came up to clasp at his shirt, pulling himself even closer to John's body. John shifted, spreading his legs to accommodate, and they fell against the back of the couch.

"Fuck," Rodney muttered, breaking the kiss.

John didn't say anything, just moved his mouth to Rodney's chin. He pressed a hard kiss there and then moved down to where Rodney's jawline met his neck and bit down. Rodney arched into the bite, hands tightening on John's shirt.

John sucked at the bite mark, pulling at Rodney's skin as if he had nothing else.

He didn't, though, did he?

Rodney's thighs clamped down and then he was rocking, almost awkwardly dragging their bodies together. The friction rubbed against John's cock behind his pants and he groaned against Rodney's skin. His hands slipped under Rodney's shirt, spreading across slightly cool skin.

"You're warm," Rodney murmured against him, happily.

John smirked just a bit and kissed Rodney briefly. He bucked up suddenly, making them both moan as their hips clashed. "Bed?" he asked softly.

Rodney hesitated briefly, pulling back enough so they could look each other in the eye. "Yeah," he agreed after a heartbeat.

John kissed him again, and then stood with Rodney still clinging to him. He nearly fell and Rodney huffed, untangling himself. John clasped the back of Rodney's neck, an anchor for both of them as he was led into the bedroom.

"I can't believe you haven't been modified," Rodney groaned, pouting a bit as John stripped himself of a shirt and then helped Rodney with his.

The compliment had a flush spreading over John's skin, easy to see on his hairless chest. Sometimes he resented the fact that he couldn't grow chest hair, but it was nice to see that Rodney didn't have any either. He ran a hand over Rodney's chest, almost a question.

Rodney's cheeks reddened and he shrugged. "I can't even really grow a beard," he admitted. "I just don't have a lot of hair." He ran an uncertain hand over his slightly balding head.

"You're perfect," John said honestly. He'd said as much to Teyla.

But he didn't want to think of Teyla now. Just Rodney, standing shirtless in his room like an offering. John pressed a palm to Rodney's cheek and directed him into another kiss.

Rodney went easily, if still unbelieving. John wasn't good with words, he never had been, but he could speak with his actions at least. He prodded Rodney back until he'd sat on the bed and then reached down to undo the buttons on his pants.

"John," Rodney muttered, overwhelmed. John shushed him with another kiss and pulled down his pants and boxers in one go. They tangled with Rodney's ankles until he kicked them off, but John was already bringing his mouth to Rodney's cock.

It was thicker than his, slightly pinker, and growing harder. John kissed the tip and then licked it, teasingly.

"Fuck, please," Rodney whined.

John huffed, pleased, and put his mouth over the tip, sucking lightly. He let his throat relax. It had been a while, months even before he'd met Rodney, but he had control enough to remember how to do this, give this pleasure.

Rodney's cock slipped past John's swirling tongue and hit the back of his throat. John pushed back the instinctual need to gag and sucked hard. Rodney's hand came to clutch at his hair and he groaned.

John let himself get a little slobbery, wetting Rodney's hard cock. He pulled out to just the tip and then went back down, setting up a steady pace. His own cock was pushing against his pants zipper, but John ignored it best he could. His hands clutched at Rodney's thighs, another anchor.

Rodney gasped suddenly and John could feel his balls beginning to bunch up underneath his cheeks. He sucked harder, wanting, but Rodney pulled at his hair roughly. "No, no," he muttered.

John pulled back, a little hurt. Rodney's cock slipped from his mouth with a little pop, but he barely noticed. Rodney's eyes were wide, hazed with pleasure, and his cheeks flushed. "Rodney?" he whispered, his voice slightly hoarse.

"I want," Rodney took a shuddering breath. "I want to come with you in me. I need you to fuck me, John, please."

John shivered. He hadn't expected that, hadn't dared to hope for that, but already he was realizing he couldn't deny Rodney anything. "Yeah," he agreed.

He stood and unzipped is pants, sighing in relief as his cock bounced free. The pants were quickly thrown aside and he watched with greedy eyes as Rodney put his hand over the bedside dispenser. Lube spread out over his fingers and then his eyes pinned John in place.

John couldn't keep in a groan, watching Rodney prepare himself. After a moment, he shook his head. "Let me."

Rodney leaned back on the bed, fingers still wet. John crawled on top of him, kissing him again as he reached down to Rodney's ass. He rolled the skin underneath his palm and then placed his thumb, testing, to Rodney's hole.

The anus flexed under his touch, already slightly stretched. John stuck his thumb in, pulling back from the kiss to watch as Rodney's eyes fluttered closed. He rubbed with his thumb, and then pulled it out to be replaced with his index and middle finger.

Rodney moaned. "Come on," he said. "More."

John obliged, twisting both fingers around before adding a third. He pushed back, searching, and smiled as Rodney gave a little shout. "Rodney," he murmured, trapped again by this man.

"Do it," Rodney demanded, eyes opening. "I have all my shots, come on."

"Me too," John stated, though it was kind of stupid of either of them to just take each other's words for it.

Then again, nothing about this was really smart. John couldn't care less as he pulled his fingers out and lined his cock up, pressing the tip against Rodney's hole. It opened for him in time with Rodney's ragged breathing.

John pushed in, slowly. He wanted to watch Rodney's face, see that pleasure exploding in the red of his cheeks, but soon it became too much. He pitched forward, burying his head in Rodney's neck like it was a safe haven as he hit home.

Rodney bucked up, reminding, and John began to thrust, gaining speed as Rodney's breath came quicker. "There, there," Rodney said. "John."

John bit down on Rodney's shoulder, shuddering. Rodney's hands grasped at John's arms, and John brought one hand down to jerk him off.

"John!" Rodney's neck twisted to the side, an invitation, and John bit again at Rodney's neck.

They twisted together, shaking. John felt the air around him still, as if it were slowing just for them.

Pleasure shot through him, Rodney's dull fingernails scrapping at his back, and John came hard. He pulled, almost too rough on Rodney's cock, and then Rodney was following him down into bright darkness.

...

The sunset over the ocean cast orange and pink shadows over Rodney's face. John smiled, entranced. He brought a hand up and brushed his thumb against Rodney's cheek.

Rodney leaned into him, smiling also. Behind him, a forest of trees formed a protective circle around them, blocking them from the world.

John, almost nervously, wrapped an arm around Rodney's shoulder, dragging them closer together.

The sound of the waves in the background was a serenade, and in the light of the sunset John leaned down and softly kissed Rodney's lips.

The world flickered like a candle.

Light had broken through the smog, John realized as he woke to feel the sunlight warming his skin. He sat up and glanced to the window that stretched across the entire wall. There was a break, small but enough for the light to pierce and magnify.

John smiled, looking down at that patch of light on his bare chest and then over at where Rodney lay still asleep. He remembered vaguely having just enough energy left to wipe them both off with his discarded shirt and throwing Rodney's blanket over their hips.

It had been so long since he'd spent the night in someone else's bed. John felt his chest constrict at the thought. He wanted to be everything Rodney needed so Rodney would never ask him to go.

John rubbed at his face, frightened suddenly of being here like this in bed when Rodney woke up. Scared he would say something he might regret.

Closing his eyes briefly, John slipped out from under the covers and quietly grabbed his pants. He pulled them on, glancing back to make sure he hadn't woken Rodney up.

Rodney was asleep in the same position, on arm over his chest and the other flung over his head. John smiled a bit as he picked up his shirt, though the smile turned into a grimace as he realized how gross the dried cum was.

Frowning, John dropped the shirt again and looked around. Rodney's shirt, a plain grey tee, was lying in a crumple so he grabbed it and slipped it on. It was just a bit big on him, especially in the shoulders, but better than smelling of sex.

Now he smelled of Rodney. John refused to admit how that thought had his heart speeding up.

John walked to the kitchen and started the coffee machine, then opened the cooling machine. There were a couple of frozen bagels and next to them some cream cheese, so John grabbed both.

He was watching the bagels warm up in the refresher when Rodney stumbled into the kitchen. John blinked, not realizing he'd been so out of it that he hadn't heard Rodney wake up.

Rodney blinked back, shock and surprise coming over his face. "You're here," he muttered in a rough voice.

"Um," John felt a sudden flash of fear at the thought Rodney might want him to leave. "I was making some breakfast. There's coffee."

Rodney glanced at the machine and then back at John. He stumbled forward, grabbing John by the arms. John stood, steadying him as Rodney clung to his chest. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I thought you'd be gone," Rodney admitted softly into John's shoulder. "I don't know who you work for. Stargate or the Genii or… someone else, but you got what you wanted and I thought… I thought-"

"Rodney," John clutched at him. "No, I mean yes, I-" he broke off, embarrassed and shocked and hurting. "Last night, when we… that wasn't because of anyone else."

Rodney leaned back just a bit so that they could look at each other. "I hoped," he said. "That it wasn't, I mean, but when I woke up and you weren't there…"

John winced. "Let's sit down."

Rodney nodded, barely reacting as John put a mug of coffee in front of him and then a bagel. He picked at the cream cheese for a moment.

John sighed. "I was sent to find out about the Phoenix device," he said, because Rodney had already guessed it. "I actually wanted to tell you last night, but," he shrugged sheepishly. "I'm not good with words, Rodney."

"What are you going to do?" Rodney asked softly, his eyes fixed on his coffee.

"I'm not going to tell them anything," John told him. "Look at me, Rodney, please."

Rodney looked up and his blue eyes were shining with unshed emotion. "Is your name really John?"

"Yeah," John said. "And I'm a thief. The Force modified me so I could enter dreams, but ever since that first dream of yours…Rodney."

Rodney flushed. "I wanted you from the first moment I saw you. In person, I mean. I knew I shouldn't, I knew you were doing something, but I couldn't help myself." He jerked suddenly. "Is that a byproduct of-"

"No," John denied immediately. "I mean, I don't know. But it's never happened before and it goes both ways." He felt his cheeks redden. "But even if it didn't, the Phoenix Device and what you're trying to do with it. That's too important just to be sold to the highest bidder. I would never do that."

"I'm glad," Rodney said. "Thank you."

"Don't," John shook his head. "Don't thank me for that." He stood and circled the table, before kneeling down besides Rodney's hair. "Just let me have this. I mean, if you want to, now that you know-"

Rodney cut him off with a kiss that had them both panting. "I do," he said.

John let out a small, relieved laugh. "Good. Me too."

...

"You have been called to debrief on your current progress with your mark," the voice stated.

John maintained a carefully cool expression as he stood on the platform in the central meeting room. "As well as is expected," he stated. "But I need more time."

"What have you uncovered?" the voice asked.

John searched quickly for a good lie. "Dr. McKay has been attending several conference calls with Weir Industries," he said, though he knew it was on an unrelated project. "He otherwise spends most of his time working on mathematic proofs. It is a hobby, many of his dreams contain those numbers."

"You have not been able to manipulate them?" the voice inquired.

"He has a very complex mind," John said truthfully, though it was also the truth that John enjoyed sharing dreams with Rodney and very rarely did he alter them in anyway. Except the occasional nightmare, he steered away from messing with Rodney's imaginings of an Earth full of life.

Of course, he didn't always share dreams with Rodney. Sometimes he had his own, even in Rodney's bed, dreams that woke him with a scream in his throat that he swallowed back down. Rodney never woke up with him.

It was better that way.

"You have one week until McKay leaves," the voice stated. "Do not fail us, John Sheppard."

John started, shocked, as the voice went silent. All of the sudden he had a horrifying thought.

They know.

John left the meeting room quickly and found Teyla and Ronon where he expected them to be, sparring in Ronon's room.

They stopped as soon as they saw him, and John knew he must look awful. Teyla set down her knife, walking to him. John closed the door and then turned to meet her, accepting her forehead-touching, half-hug as the comfort it was meant to be.

"Tell us," she said. "Everything."

John did, starting with the very first dream. He left out the specifics of the Phoenix Device, because though Ronon often checked his room for bugs and cams, they were still in the Guild complex and one could never be too careful.

Still, what he did say was enough to shock both Ronon and Teyla. They exchanged a glance as John took a deep breath.

"He's worth it?" Ronon asked suddenly. "This?"

John felt his throat close. He tried to answer, but he didn't know what to say to that.

Teyla coughed pointedly. "We'll do what we can to help, John," she murmured.

"No," John said. "I can't get you two in trouble with them. This is your life."

"It is a life," Teyla agreed. "It does not have to be ours."

John looked at her, confused, but Ronon shook his head before he could ask. "You're our brother," he said. "We won't leave you alone in this."

"But he's not alone," Teyla said with a small smile. "He has Dr. McK- Rodney now."

"Rodney," John agreed. "I can't get him caught in this."

"He already is," Ronon said. He clapped John on the shoulder. "We'll help."

John felt his throat clear. "Thank you. Both of you."

Teyla gave him another half-hug and Ronon shook his arm. John felt gratitude fill him. To keep Rodney safe, he would need his friends' help, and he couldn't be more thankful that they would give it.

It would be hard; they all knew that. He could only hope he was overreacting.

The sinking feeling in his stomach told him that he wasn't.


	5. Chapter 5

_Ideologies separate us. Dreams and anguish bring us together._ – Eugene Ionesco

* * *

The darkness was alive. John shot at it, unseeing. Screams echoed in his ears like the memories of those who'd fallen.

To his left, someone laughed. "One by one," Ford said as John turned to him.

Ford's left eye was as dark as the blackness, his face twisted in a sadistic smile. "One by one they all fall down," he repeated.

"No!" John shouted, but it was too late. Holland materialized out of the dark, sad as he looked at John. "No!" John repeated.

Ford pushed at him and John's fingers tightened around the trigger. Holland went down, screaming and screaming and screaming.

"I didn't mean to!" John shouted.

"Is he worth it?" Holland asked, screaming and yet calm. Eyes sad.

"Don't die," John begged. His gun was gone, his head pounding. "Please don't go."

Ford laughed again. The darkness was surrounding him, shadowing him. John stood, wishing he had his gun back, wishing he could shoot.

Then the gun was there again. John aimed, straight for Ford's head.

"Is he worth it?" Ford asked.

John shook. He couldn't answer, couldn't speak. His mouth wouldn't open.

Ford cackled, and then the darkness surrounded him completely.

John looked, to find Holland, but the darkness had surrounded him to. He was alone.

"Is he worth it?" the air whispered.

John woke, panting. Besides him, Rodney muttered something and turned over. John stared at him for a moment, the question reverberating in his head.

He needed to take a walk, John decided. His heart felt like lead in his chest, like it had been replaced with a metal substitute.

John slipped out of bed, grabbing his pants and shirt and boots. He'd just take a quick jog and come back before Rodney woke up, he decided. Just a walk to clear his head.

...

The quick walk turned into an hour long run. John pushed himself until he couldn't go any farther, and then turned back. By the time he'd returned to the Pegasus lobby, his legs were shaking with exertion.

The security guard on duty recognized him by now, but he was occupied with someone else. The someone else turned as John walked by and John froze.

Evan Lorne stood by the desk, looking just the same as he had a year ago. John had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't still in a dream.

"Evan," John murmured. "What are you doing here?"

Evan stepped forward and then stopped as if unsure of his welcome. Despite the fact that his uniform indicated his old friend was still in the Force, John pulled the man close into a hug, which Evan returned.

"I-" Evan coughed. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Come on," John said, eyes flicking to the security guard. "Let's go upstairs."

Evan nodded brusquely and they walked together to the transporter. It deposited them in front of the penthouse. John looked at the closed door and took a deep breath. Rodney was inside, probably making lunch, but John had said he didn't want the Rodney to get caught up in anything.

So instead of opening the door, John just leaned against the glass wall of the hallway that led from the transporter to the penthouse entrance and looked at Evan. "You look like shit."

"Yeah," Evan said shakily. He wasn't obviously armed, but his Force fatigues were a blinking sign that he could be. "I haven't really slept recently."

"What happened, you know, after?" John asked.

"Well, you know they were looking for you," Evan sighed. "They didn't suspect me, not after the initial questioning. I guess I was too good a soldier or some shit like that. But I kept an eye on your trail to see if they were getting close to you."

"It's been almost a year," John murmured, suddenly cold.

"They got an anonymous tip." Evan's hand clenched. "I don't know who. But they said… it said that you were consorting with Dr. Rodney McKay."

John felt the blood drain from his face, and then the calm he'd always felt just before a firefight came over him and his head cleared of panic. "Where are they?"

"They were debating on how to pick you up," Evan murmured. "They didn't want to get him involved, I gathered. So I came here, to warn you."

"They're going to know," John said. "Evan, you're not going to be able to go back."

"I don't want to go back," Evan told him, eyes flashing. "There's nothing left for me there. The Force isn't what it was when we were first recruited, John."

John nodded tightly. "No, it isn't."

The door opened, and Rodney peeked his head out, his eyes calculating. John winced, and the scientist laughed. "Yeah, the door isn't very soundproof," he said.

Evan had shifted, ready to fight or flee as necessary. John sighed. "Evan, this is Rodney, Dr. Rodney McKay. Rodney, this is Major Evan Lorne."

"I gathered," Rodney nodded. "Come inside."

John went first. Even though he trusted Evan with his life, how could he not after Evan had risked his own to save his, he wasn't sure he trusted anyone with Rodney's life. And wasn't that disconcerting to realize.

Evan looked uncomfortably around the house as John sat at the kitchen table next to Rodney. After a moment, Evan sat down across from them, his hands flat on the table.

"I knew you were ex-Force," Rodney said, looking at John. "But I didn't know they were chasing you."

"Yes, well," John sighed. "I didn't exactly have permission to leave."

Rodney frowned, then turned his eyes to Evan. "And how exactly do you factor into this?"

"He helped me escape," John said quickly, because Evan already looked anxious. He took a deep breath. "We were Special Ops, in the Force. Modified for certain skills."

"Your dreaming powers," Rodney stated, wiggling his fingers. "I'd guessed that."

"Well." John flushed as Evan looked at them both incredulously. "What you don't know is that they tried it on others before me. I was the third volunteer-"

Evan snorted.

John glared at him. "The first died immediately. I never knew his name. The second died a week after testing, the first time she tried to enter a dream."

"But you didn't," Rodney said, stating the obvious. "Were there others after you?"

"One," Evan stated. "Lieutenant Aiden Ford."

"Ford was a month after me, though," John said. "They had to make sure they'd gotten it right, I guess. Lots of tests. Figuring out my range and in what circumstances I could and couldn't enter dreams and how much I could manipulate once I was there."

"He was the talk of our unit for a while," Evan said. "Badass already at everything else, and then he went and became a demi-god."

John groaned, glaring, but it was half-hearted. He'd missed Evan, a lot. With most of the rest of their unit gone now… well it was good to see his friend.

"When it became clear the test was a success, they modified Ford," John stated. "He was a new recruit to the Special Ops and always eager. At one point they had us try dreaming together."

"Did it work?" Rodney asked.

John's mind flashed to the darkness that had surrounded them, the pushing and pulling and being ripped apart.

"No," he said calmly. Evan didn't even flinch, though he knew different.

"So what happened?" Rodney asked.

John looked down at his hands and swallowed. "They ordered me to test how much pain I could inflict in a dream. Different torture methods. How to get people to talk without actually harming them. I thought… I thought it was a POW or maybe a volunteer, I don't know."

"John," Rodney murmured, reaching forward to take his hand.

John flinched away from his eyes. "It wasn't. I mean, maybe he was a volunteer, but-" he stopped, unable to go on.

"Lieutenant Lyle Holland," Evan said, when it became clear John couldn't. "He was on our unit and he was a friend."

Evan never blamed John for what happened, no matter how much John blamed himself. He still didn't know whether to be grateful or pissed about that.

"I killed him," John stated. "I ripped his mind apart and when I surfaced he'd been put in a coma. He died a day later."

"You didn't know-" Rodney began.

John shook his head. "I did, at least some part of me. I… everyone dreams a little differently. I knew Holland. I knew him, and I killed him. I didn't even… it was so easy and I didn't even realize I'd done it until I had and then I couldn't fix it." His hand clenched in Rodney's. "I couldn't fix it and he died and all the power in the world wasn't fucking worth it."

"It all went downhill after that," Evan said. "For all of us." He waited, as if to see if John would continue, but John was still shaking. Evan sighed. "The unit got sent out on a mission. Without Shep here, it was a suicide run and we… few of us came back."

He was shaking too, then, and John closed his eyes. "Ford started going crazy," he muttered. "One of his eyes had mutated into this black… thing. He began to pull people into his nightmares and the whole base was just going insane."

"I told John he had to get out, that they were going to pull the plug," Evan said.

"They were going to kill you," Rodney stated, horrified.

John nodded. "It's what they do," he shrugged. "We were a failed experiment. I'd refused… after Holland I refused to do it anymore. But then Evan was telling me to go, so I did it. I took Ford and I ran."

"With Ford?" Rodney coughed. "He… I mean."

John smiled a little bitterly. "We got caught not too far from base and Ford had a grenade. He put it to his own chest and told me to run. I didn't even hesitate."

"Oh," Rodney said. He was pale, paler than usual, but he squeezed John's hand. "And now they've found you."

"I joined the Thieves' Guild under the city," John said, as much for Evan's benefit as for Rodney's. "They called me in the other day, to ask about… the device. I didn't give them anything."

"You think they were the tip," Evan stated. "The Guild?" He frowned. "Well… that… that's likely actually. If you were starting to disobey."

Rodney took a deep breath. "What are we going to do?"

"We?" John said. "I've already dragged you into enough as is. The Force won't touch you, you're too important, and I bet the Guild will leave you alone too. You're careful, you won't give anything away and you can continue to build the device. Save the world."

"And what, you're going to run again?" Rodney scowled. "Bullshit, you don't have the resources. I do. If you're going, John, I'm going with you."

John twisted in his chair so that he faced Rodney completely. "I can't lose you because of my past mistakes."

Rodney hissed and then brought his head close, kissing John roughly. "I'm not letting you go." He said when he pulled back. They both ignored Evan, who was tactful enough to turn his head away and pretend he couldn't hear or see anything. "You mean too much-" He coughed. "Besides, I'm being targeted too. I mean, they sent you to steal my ideas."

John's throat closed up as Rodney looked embarrassed. "I'm too selfish to say no to you," he admitted.

"Good," Rodney laughed. "Because I would have followed you anyway."

...

The base was empty. John stood, staring at the room where he'd been instructed to lie down and dream of torture and death. In the room next over, Holland had died.

"John," Evan said, materializing behind him. He looked around. "It's been nearly a year since I've shared a dream with you."

"You're just in the living room," John pointed out, because he needed to reaffirm himself that he was dreaming.

"And you're sleeping with the scientist," Evan said, eyes darkening.

John nodded, not bothering to deny it. He'd known Rodney less than a month, but it felt like ages. The endless hours of dreams.

Evan cleared his throat. "Is he worth it?" he asked quickly.

John looked at that room of nightmares, and then he began walking down the hallway. Evan followed him silently, until the hallway opened out onto a grassy field.

Evan gasped. "What…"

John smiled as he looked around at the vivid green and blue. Him and Rodney. "Yes," he said, his heart soaring. "Yes, he's worth it."


	6. Chapter 6

_The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up._ – Paul Valery

* * *

Teyla and Ronon met them at dawn. Rodney had been on the phone all last night and most of the morning before he'd fallen asleep beside John to rest for a few hours.

At dawn, Ronon handed him a bag of what amounted to all of John's worldly possessions. He had his own duffel slung over his shoulder and Teyla had a pack on her back.

John thought that maybe a part of him would always feel guilty for uprooting all of their lives. Ronon and Teyla and Evan, but especially Rodney.

When he confessed this, quietly into Rodney's neck as their alarm clock rang, Rodney told him he was being stupid.

Dawn was one of the few times of day when the sun was mostly visible. The smog tended to leave a path for the light to get through, just off the ground of the horizon. Purples and pinks and the darkest of oranges, the sunrise and sunset would have been beautiful if not for the fact that their beauty came from the toxicity of the air.

Somehow, Rodney had managed to secure them a van with his lab connections. There was room enough for a mattress in the back, and it load with supplies to last them a few weeks, if they rationed.

It was the best plan they could come up with, get out of the biosphere and escape into the acid-torn world. Just in case, they had hazmat suits, but inside the van they would be able to exist with a full tank of fresh air.

John wasn't a fan of running instead of fighting, but he'd done it before and now he would do it again. The thing was, even if he did have a chance against the Force and the Thieves' Guild, he couldn't risk anyone else getting hurt. Not like Ford did. Not like Holland had.

Rodney gave Evan directions, as the first one to drive, and then he hunkered down in the worn blankets strewn across the mattress and slept. John alternated between watching him and looking out from his seat on the mattress next to Rodney to watch the world outside the front windshield as it transformed from the sterilized domes they were all used to living in to a countryside of mud and dirt and thick smog just overhead.

Once, in a class on the apocalypse, John had read many of the stories of apocolyses and learned about the religions that preached them, back in the old days. He thought that if there were such a thing as an apocalypse, it wasn't like the big bang of fury that those religions depicted.

No, the apocalypse that had happened had been slow going, starting at the very birth of technology and gaining in speed and intensity until all that was left of habitable land were the man-made biodomes.

"Go to sleep, John," Evan said suddenly. Their eyes met in the rearview mirror. "They can't track us through smog this thick. They'll have no idea where we're going."

John nodded tightly, though some part of him wanted to argue, wanted to say it was too easy.

Then again, life wasn't all action scenes and hero moments. Life was a cat with patched fur and a missing leg, curled up on the mattress besides Rodney. Life was a cave somewhere with a fresh water spring and some persistent algae.

Life was a dream that Rodney dreamt and decided to make come true. And John would do everything in his power to see that reality. Rodney's reality.

...

The darkness made the scenery look more ominous, but then again the world outside could kill them all very easily. John wondered what it meant that he preferred to drive in the dark, with the truth, than in the murky light of day.

The headlights of the van pierced through the thick smog, illuminating the remains of an old highway. Beside him, Rodney too looked out his window. In the back, Teyla had curled up in Ronon's arms, and Evan slept on his back.

"I just don't know," Rodney said, referring to John's earlier question. Tauri was in his lap, sleeping. "It might not even be finished in my life time."

"I have faith," John said. "You are a genius, after all." He smirked in Rodney's direction, and Rodney rolled his eyes.

There was another moment of silence, and then Rodney sighed. "Do you even wonder if we're just dreaming?" he asked quietly. "That none of this is real and I'll wake up still in my penthouse with a conference call at eight o'clock in the morning."

John stayed silent, until the question tugging at him pulled too hard and he asked it. "Do you think I'm a dream?"

"Sometimes," Rodney admitted softly. "It was the first time I met you, after all, in a dream." He continued to stare out the window. "Sometimes I just wonder if I've gone mad."

"I'm real," John said, because that at least he knew. He took a hand off the wheel and threaded his fingers with Rodney's. "I don't know if you are."

"I think I am," Rodney said.

John laughed. "I don't know how this happened so fast," he said. "Maybe that's the problem."

Rodney's fingers tightened in his. "Bet you never expected this, huh?" His smile was crooked. "The first time you entered someone else's dream."

"Fuck, no," John shook his head, eyes still on the road, but his entire being occupied by Rodney. "I was trained to be a thief, Rodney. Even in the Force. That's what this… modification is, really. Just a way to steal what people can't control."

"You didn't choose it," Rodney stated, though John wasn't sure how he could be so sure. Didn't know why Rodney trusted him so much.

"I'm just…" John cleared his throat. "I'm sick of it, doing the wrong thing. At first, when I joined the Thieves' Guild… I'd kind of envisioned that ancient folktale. You know the one about Robin Hood?"

"The fox?" Rodney asked. "Oh, wait the thief of Sherwood Forest, yeah."

"Steal from the rich and give to the poor," John quoted. He glanced at Rodney. "But it was nothing like that. I'm sick of being the bad guy."

"Hey," Rodney protested. "You're not the bad guy. And neither are Teyla or Ronon, right? I mean, they're thieves aren't they?"

"Yeah, but-" John cut himself off, flushing.

"Exactly," Rodney said.

John thought of Teyla's half-hugs and jogging with Ronon and sparring with both of them and said honestly. "They became my family, when I'd lost the ones I'd had in the Force."

"Well, you regained one," Rodney said, fingers twitching.

"Evan is like my brother," John agreed and mentally cursed at the way that relaxed Rodney, as if Rodney had been worried.

"I don't have a family anymore," Rodney said. "I mean, I'm friends with Radek, I think. But… I stopped talking to my sister after she refused to modify Madison."

"Madison?" John prodded.

"My niece," Rodney murmured. "She has a citrus allergy, like I used to. I didn't think Jeannie would turn out to be a naturalist like our parents, but her husband…" he huffed.

"Hey," John said, squeezing Rodney's fingers. "I'm your family now, if you want."

Rodney looked at him and his eyes were bright, a contrast to the darkness surrounding them. "I do. So much."

John had to stop the van briefly so he could kiss Rodney, but it was worth it. Rodney was worth all of it.

...

When they finally stopped, they were outside of what looked like a self-contained biosphere.

"What is this?" Evan asked, looking just as confused as John felt.

"An acquaintance," Rodney stated. He directed Ronon to drive up to the entrance of the dome.

Ronon did, and the glass opened to let the van in and then closed behind them. The pocket they were in was suddenly aired out, funneling the smog back into the atmosphere, before they were allowed to proceed up the driveway to the cottage-like house.

John stepped out as soon as the van had stopped, staring. All around them were plants. Trees and flowers and ferns and, fuck, bugs. There was a beehive. A real live beehive.

"Rodney," John breathed.

Rodney grinned at him before knocking on the cottage door. It opened quickly, revealing a young man with short-cropped brown hair. "Rodney!" he greeted, pulling Rodney into a hug.

"Uh, Parrish," Rodney coughed.

"David," the man scolded. "It's gotta be David by now, shouldn't it?"

"Yeah," Rodney agreed. "David. These are the people I was telling you about. John Sheppard, Evan Lorne, Teyla, and Ronon."

"Come in!" David said, opening the door wide.

John glanced back to Tauri, who'd jumped out of the van and was now sniffing around. "Should I…"

"You can leave him," David said. "He won't cause any damage, will you, Tauri?"

Tauri didn't react to his name, just bounded off towards the nearest tree and began scratching it.

Rodney snorted and marched inside. After a moment, John followed.

Thirty minutes later, they all sat around the small coffee table drinking tea. Rodney had just finished explaining the situation to David, who apparently had been helping him on some of the more biological aspects and ecological implications of the Phoenix Device.

"Hmm," David hummed. His eyes flicked to Evan, who seemed to have a permanent blush on his face from the attention he'd been receiving from the skinny botanist their entire visit. "So you're heading to a secret undercover lab where you can all live happily ever after and finish the device of your dreams?"

"Something like that," Rodney gave a long suffering sigh. "So?"

"Sounds like fun," David said smartly, grinning. "I'll go pack."

"What?" Rodney asked once David had left the room and John had turned to stare at him. "I'm surrounded by your posse, I figured I might as well start bringing in my own."

John found himself laughing at that, quickly joined by Evan and Teyla and Ronon and, once he'd come to check on the source of the noise, David as well.

Soon enough, they all piled into the van and began the long trek west, to a coastal city of promise and the lab that Zelenka had secured for them. That would be their home for who knew how long, but with Rodney by his side John thought he could live anywhere.

...

Rodney ended up leaving Tauri behind to live with the other residents of the self-contained biosphere. A woman named Katie promised to take good care of him before packing them a lunch for the road and waving them off with a smile.

John could tell that Rodney was sad about saying goodbye to his cat. John drew a thumb over Rodney's his shoulder comfortingly and was glad when he allowed John to kiss on the nape of his neck.

It was comfortable between them, even with their constant company, in a way John had never had before. In some ways, it felt as though he'd always been waiting for Rodney.

But he'd never say that aloud.

"Look," Teyla said, her voice clear. At the wheel, Ronon grunted.

David peeked his head up from where he'd been sleeping against Evan's shoulder. Evan still was red in the cheeks, but he too glanced towards the front of the van. Rodney shifted, half in John's lap, and they both together turned their heads to see.

In front of them stretched the beginnings of the biosphere and beyond it the spires of the city of Atlantis.

Atlantis, one of the few cities left on the coast, nearly surrounded by water on all sides. Atlantis, where they would try to make their dreams come true.

Rodney turned back to John, his eyes sparkling and John returned his excited grin with one of his own.

...

The grass prickled their bare feet. John laughed, kissing Rodney on the cheek as he pulled his lover into his arms.

"I'm getting sunburned, John!" Rodney said. "Sunburned."

John laughed again and reached forward to rub at Rodney's red nose. "You are," he agreed.

"Don't do that," Rodney wrinkled his nose. "Ow."

John kissed it softly. "Better?"

Rodney's eyes darkened and he hummed. "Maybe." He paused, as if he had something different on his mind, and John smirked.

The wind whipped at them suddenly, tugging at their loose clothes. John lifted his face against it, grinning broadly. His arms broke out in goosebumps, but he barely noticed. Rodney's warm presence was by his side, anchoring him in the gust.

There was a pressure on his leg and John looked down to see Tauri wrap a tail around his calf. The cat blinked up at him, purring, before he pounced into the grass.

"My cat likes you more than he likes me," Rodney pouted.

"But I like you most," John stated, smiling.

"Well, in that case," Rodney rolled his eyes, but smiled as John pulled him even closer.

John stood still for a moment, marveling at the reflection of his own feelings in Rodney's sky-blue eyes. His lover, his lover, pressed harder against him, as if they could become one by just pushing against each other.

"I love you," Rodney stated suddenly. His eyes flashed and then lowered to half-mast. "I love you so much, John."

"You are the love of my life," John told him honestly… and because he and Rodney were always competitive.

Rodney rolled his eyes again, before leaning forward to kiss John's lips chastely. John followed him as he retreated back and deepened the kiss.

Around them, the short grass continued to grow, soaking in the light of the sun above them. In the distance, the sound of the ocean could be heard just slightly over the echo of their hearts.

It was more than perfect.

Whether or not John wakes up… well, that is up for you to decide.

And to dream.

—

_Whatever you do, never stop dreaming._ – Darren L. Johnson


End file.
